


Realism Sells

by Finely Honed (jaqen_hgar)



Series: Imagine Tony & Bucky [11]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers Try To Help, Bucky is confused, Clint Injects Realism, Fluff and Crack, Humor, M/M, Simulation Time, Tony Being Tony, clint is a troll
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-12
Updated: 2015-03-12
Packaged: 2018-03-17 13:56:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3531806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaqen_hgar/pseuds/Finely%20Honed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><span class="small">Prompt: imagine Tony stressed out from work, both as Iron Man and head of Stark Industries R&D. he's been in six meetings in a week, flown to Honk Kong, Japan and Berlin for another three meetings all in two weeks and then some idiot down in R&D messed something up that was due the next day. he's stressed, hasn't slept in four days, is slightly ill and he ends up collapsing from it all. Bucky finds him on the kitchen floor, a wound on his head from hitting it on the edge of the counter.</span><br/>“I call bullshit!”</p><p>“Tony, you can’t…”</p><p>“Too late, already did. Bull. Shit.” He whirled around, pointing down at himself. “Who gave me gray hairs?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Realism Sells

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted over on [imaginetonyandbucky.tumblr.com](http://imaginetonyandbucky.tumblr.com/). Be sure to stop on over and also enjoy the amazing contributions of [Potrix](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Potrix/pseuds/Potrix), [27dragons](http://archiveofourown.org/users/27dragons/pseuds/27dragons), [InnerCinema](http://archiveofourown.org/users/InnerCinema), and [kamaete](http://kamaete.tumblr.com/)!

Tony stood beside his own body, staring down in confusion, and maybe even concern. There he was, stretched out on the kitchen floor, Bucky crouched over him, clearly distressed, a little pool of blood visibly spreading out under his head. There was a corresponding smear of blood on the edge of the kitchen counter from where he’d smacked it after collapsing from exhaustion.

Meeting after meeting after meeting, several battles in the armor, endless hours in the workshop, Hong Kong to Japan to Berlin, and then back to New York in order to deal with the shitshow that was R&D at the moment. No sleep for four days, he’s ill, suffering from all the stress, so yeah, sure, he supposed  _anyone_ would collapse under those circumstances.

Still…

“I call bullshit!”

“Tony, you can’t…”

“Too late, already did. Bull. Shit.” He whirled around, pointing down at himself. “Who gave me gray hairs?”

There were shared shifty glances, and Tony gawped at his friends. “Ah!” he made a wounded noise, and folded his arms across his chest. “I  _do not_ have gray hairs!”

“Yet,” Barton groused.

“What was that?”

Clint rolled his eyes, while Steve pointed down at Tony’s crumpled body. “Forget the gray hairs, Tony, this is serious.”

“Right, so just ignore a  _glaring error_  and accept the rest as accurate? No way.”

“Maybe the gray hairs are there to indicate the effects of stress on the body,” Bruce offered, shrugging sheepishly and tucking his hands into his sleeves when Tony glared at him.

“Et tu, Brucie? Fine, I’ll allow it, but the rest is still bullshit.”

Everyone groaned.

“Tony, you’ve been working too hard,” Steve insisted. “And I think—gray hairs aside—this does a pretty good job of illustrating the dangers of overextending yourself.”

“Okay, first? Pepper is amazing at her job, there is no way she’d set my schedule up like that, not unless she was actively trying to ruin business relationships.”

“He has a point there,” Natasha piped up. Steve frowned, and she shrugged, and examined her nails, obviously bored.

“Also, you’re insulting  _yourself_ , because you’d bench me before letting me in the armor under these circumstances.” Steve opened his mouth, but then pulled a face and nodded his agreement. “As for the R&D stuff, Parker has been killing it—the only reason I even step foot in R&D these days is because Anders brings in those fucking amazing zucchini muffins every Monday! Speaking of which, why haven’t I seen myself eating in this stupid simulation? Thor, have you ever known me to go longer than forty minutes without a snack?”

“Nay.”

Bucky cleared his throat. “Actually, I’m definitely on Stark’s side, now.” He pointed to his simulated self; he was cradling Tony’s head in his lap and crying over his prone form.

“Why now,” simulated Bucky said, leaning over to kiss simulated Tony’s forehead, “when I’ve never had a chance to confess my secret, all consuming, incredibly homoerotic feelings for you?”

Tony’s eyes widened as he looked between the two Buckys. One was confessing love, while the other was turning beet red.

“Clint, did you alter the simulation?” Steve asked doing his best disappointed dad impression.

“Yeah, I injected some realism.”

“Clint!” Bucky and Steve shouted in sync.

“Everyone’s seen the way you look at his ass, Barnes!”

“Bucky? I’ve miraculously recovered,” simulated Tony said, reaching up to stroke the side of simulated Bucky’s face. “Oh, and to awake in your arms, I must still be dreaming!”

“Uh…” Tony shifted uncomfortably.

“Now that I can see that you care, I’ll let down my guard and admit the truth. Ever since you’ve walked into our lives, I’ve been happier, but also hornier! I got it bad for you, too, Bucky.”

“Whoa, hey, uh,” Tony stammered, feeling his face flush as well. He and Bucky lunged as one, as if to pull their simulated selves apart, but since it was all a projection, they just stumbled through it and into each other.

“That’s it, time out!” Steve shouted. He and Natasha grabbed Clint and drug him off, Thor following them with one last look at the simulated Bucky and Tony—now the two were making out on the kitchen floor while cheesy music played.

“Realism sells,” Clint shouted.

“Sorry, we were just worried you’d been working a bit too hard, Tony,” Bruce apologized on the way out.

“How do you turn this off?” Tony called after him desperately, scrabbling to get up.

“Forget how tired I am, take me right here on the kitchen floor, big boy,” the simulated Tony suggested.

The real Bucky and Tony froze as the cheesy music became much seedier, and their simulations began ripping each other’s clothes off.

“Oh my god,” the real Tony gasped, “Clint made simulated porn of us!”

Bucky stared at him, then looked back down, his eyes widening, then back at Tony. His eyes shifted to the door, which was still open, then back to the two simulated figures now writhing around together half naked, back to Tony, back to the door.

“It’d be a shame to waste the effort,” Bucky pointed out cautiously.

Tony ran over, slammed the door shut, and locked it with an evil, dirty smile.


End file.
